


my dirty lil’ maid

by elleskandal



Series: the naked chef [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Costume Kink, Costumes, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Kinktober, M/M, Maids, Married Sex, Neck Kissing, Sexual Roleplay, except this has nothing to do with halloween, feral osaaka, just inspired by some whorelloween art, one ass slap, or as feral as its gonna get in my mind, osamu thirst, whorelloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleskandal/pseuds/elleskandal
Summary: Osamu had gotten in the habit of cooking naked. Well, almost naked. He still had his apron on. He’d wake up — where he slept naked — roll out of bed, grab his apron, and get to work in their kitchen. It drove Keiji mad.How was he supposed to get anything done? Editing? Cleaning? Watering the plants? He came out of their bedroom and all he saw was his husband’s hot ass making him breakfast every weekend and it just wasn’t fair. Keiji harrumphed, staring at the tight beefcakes in front of him. Seriously, how could he get back at Osamu and his tight beefcakes? Then he got an idea, pulling out his phone and navigating to that website that Bokuto-san had shown him....Or: Keiji buys a maid outfit to distract Osamu as retribution for cooking naked every weekend. It works.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: the naked chef [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993168
Comments: 18
Kudos: 201





	my dirty lil’ maid

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up this past weekend to this [AMAZING piece of art](https://twitter.com/maddox_rider/status/1320364495093465089) by Maddox on Patreon. As soon as I saw it, I immediately was inspired to write. So THANK YOU for the art. 
> 
> I'd also like to thank [boomturkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomturkey/pseuds/boomturkey) for being a fabulous beta! Your fabulous comments and suggestions made this piece so much better.

Osamu had gotten in the habit of cooking naked. Well, almost naked. He still had his apron on. He’d wake up — where he slept naked — roll out of bed, grab his apron, and get to work in their kitchen. It drove Keiji mad. 

How was he supposed to get anything done? Editing? Cleaning? Watering the plants? He came out of their bedroom and all he saw was his husband’s hot ass making him breakfast every weekend and it just wasn’t fair. Keiji harrumphed, staring at the tight beefcakes in front of him. Seriously, how could he get back at Osamu and his sexy, toned beefcakes? Then he got an idea, pulling out his phone and navigating to that website that Bokuto-san had shown him. It wasn’t the classiest of sites and his ears burned while he was on it, but if Bokuto had success pleasing Atsumu with items from it (ew, Keiji did _not_ want to think about that) then maybe he should give it a try.

He sunk into the couch, pulling his phone closer as he scrolled through the unsavory items. So many choices. If he didn’t pick something soon Osamu might see what he was doing — he was almost done cooking. Then one item popped up that he thought he could use. Add to cart. Purchase. Keiji sighed with relief but felt a nervous excitement — butterflies filled his stomach. He can’t believe he purchased something like that! 

Osamu set down the food in front of him, apron pulling away from his body as he leaned forward to show off his delicious abs and thick cock that teased Keiji. 

The editor reached up, grabbing his husband’s waist before he sat down. “Thank you for the food,” he said, squeezing and rubbing the tanned hip in his grasp. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, not when he was presented with such a _delicious_ meal right. The apron twitched in front of his face. 

His eyes flew to the fabric on Osamu's waist then to the man's face, who had a flirtatious smile. He knew what his husband expected — their breakfasts had sometimes devolved into that, letting their food go neglected. He patted Osamu’s side — he didn’t want his actual food to get cold today though — and picked up his chopsticks, starting to eat. Osamu’s crestfallen look played right into Keiji’s plan for payback.

“This is really good, Osamu.” Keiji placed another piece of tamago in his mouth, letting out a little moan. 

Osamu’s eyes settled on Keiji’s lips. “I’m glad you like it, babe.” 

“Mhm,” he moaned again. This went on, getting more and more lewd, until Osamu couldn’t take it any longer. 

“Keiji, yer killin’ me.”

Keiji cocked his head to the side, pretending he knew nothing of what Osamu was talking about. He raised an eyebrow to make his point. 

“Yer noises. I can barely keep it together over here.” Keiji looked down at the apron, tented. He really, really wanted to look underneath. He told himself he wouldn’t this morning. He wanted to make Osamu pay for the distraction in the kitchen today, sending him off on a quest to buy god knows what on the internet, but what would that do? It’d only really hurt himself... Keiji only had so much restraint.

“I didn’t realize you liked it so much when I ate. Maybe I’ll have to eat in the other room from now on if you can’t even get through a meal with me,” Keiji teased, continuing to eat and make noise as he stuffed another piece in his mouth. 

Osamu glared. “Ya know that’s not it. What’s gotten into ya today?”

“Am I not allowed to show my appreciation for delicious food?” 

“Ya know it’s getting me worked up.” Osamu placed a hand on his thigh and breathed. 

Keiji leaned over and intertwined his fingers with Osamu’s close to his lap, making heat pool in his stomach when he saw the apron bounce. “Good thing I’m done with breakfast, then? I’ll have something else in my mouth to moan over.” 

“K-Keiji...” Osamu’s voice broke as Keiji slid to the ground and pushed the apron to the side. 

Keiji kissed his way up Osamu’s thigh, lingering on the sensitive skin inside. He sucked and nibbled at a tender spot. Osamu groaned and then hissed as Keiji got his teeth involved. A perfect little purple impression was left when he pulled away. He gave it a quick, little kiss to soothe any pain, looking up through his lashes to see Osamu watching him with eyes blown wide and a predatory smile on his face. 

Keiji continued to kiss his way up the leg until he reached Osamu’s dick, which he nuzzled his face against. He wanted to tease Osamu, the way he felt he had been teased. 

He stroked the thick cock in front of him with just one single finger, trailing the shaft lightly. He kissed the tip and then rubbed his nose along the shaft again. Pre-cum began leaking.

“Keiiiji-“ Osamu’s head leaned back as he whined. Keiji was getting to him. Satisfaction pulsed within him. He loved the way Osamu begged. 

From the base of the cock, he ran his tongue to the tip, using his lips to just barely wrap around the shaft. He could hear Osamu’s voice catch. Keiji was getting hard now too. Knowing the impact he was having, how much control he had over his husband, it invigorated him, and yet, he knew, that the man had just as much control over him. But now, in this instance, with Osamu’s dick in his mouth, he’d say he had the upper hand and that went straight to his head — both of them. 

His lips played with Osamu’s tip, pulsing and milking the tangy, salty pre-cum. He could tell Osamu was getting impatient, wanted more when he felt fingers tangle into his hair. They tried to coax him further down the shaft. Keiji wouldn’t give in. Instead, he went back to licking, starting at the base, as he had done at the beginning. 

“Nghhh, more,” Osamu finally moaned. 

Keiji smiled against his dick and instead of licking, he switched to kissing, holding the shafting, kissing chaste kisses up the tip, ignoring Osamu’s whines as a smile danced across his face. Maybe he was turning into a little bit of a sadist. Just a little. Keiji liked to tease him a little too much. 

Holding the bottom of the shaft with a tight squeeze, he went back to enveloping his lips around the tip, lapping up all of the pre-cum that had accumulated there. Slowly up and down, he wrapped his warm mouth around the end of the shaft, moving further and further down Osamu’s cock with each bob of his head. 

Osamu was an amazing husband — he cooked incredible food, kept the house tidy, and had an objectively fantastic cock. And boy, did he know how to use it. Thinking of that, Keiji used the one thing he knew Osamu had been waiting for — he moaned, loud and lewd. Like Osamu was a delectable piece of tamago that was falling apart in his mouth. And fall apart he did. 

The moan was everything. Osamu bucked. Keiji decided he had teased enough and took the rest of his dick in full, continuing to moan. He held down Osamu’s hips that kept trying for more. Osamu’s hand gripped tighter in Keiji’s hair as he set his own pace. 

He loved feeling Osamu lose control. Whether it was the hair-pulling or the hips shaking, making Osamu unravel was a simple pleasure. For a man who was normally so composed, who made a living off of creating routine, it was a joy to see him break from that, to see spontaneity in their sex life. 

Seeing Osamu’s head back, eyes closed, mouth open, Keiji smiled around his dick, knowing his husband was close. He gripped the base where his mouth couldn’t quite reach, groaned as if Osamu was the most fantastic piece of onigiri he had wrapped his lips around, and flattened his tongue to the underside of his cock, adding extra pressure that he knew Osamu just loved.

“I- I’m gonna-“ 

Keiji went deeper, wanting to take it all. He could feel Osamu pulse in his throat. He moaned, coaxing him through his orgasm, feeling the warm come drip down his throat. He sucked the remaining bit out of Osamu until he shuddered and pushed at Keiji a little bit, indicating he was overstimulated and done. 

Keiji pulled back, satisfied. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll get the dishes.” Osamu leaned his head down against the table, unable to move for a little bit, releasing the rest of his tension with a sigh. 

Keiji chuckled as he picked up the plates and began cleaning up the kitchen. He was still hard, having been incredibly turned on by Osamu’s reactions, but he’d take care of that himself soon enough. 

He briefly thought about what he bought earlier... he guessed it was fitting based on how this all played out — here he was cleaning. And then he promptly forgot about it as Osamu walked up behind him, naked, and wrapped his arms around him. Humming into his neck, Osamu asked Keiji to join him in the shower... and who was he to deny his handsome husband such a request? 

🍙🦉

A few weeks later, Keiji came back from work one evening to an unmarked package sitting on the table.

“That came for ya today. What’d ya order?” Osamu asked with an inquisitive look. 

Cocking his head to inspect the box, having forgotten what it might be, he replied, “Oh, I’m not—“ and then he cut himself off. He recalled when he looked at the label and how it was trying — and only somewhat succeeding — to be discrete with the label that just read, _FLAVOR_. “It’s just something I found online. You’ll see!” Keiji wasn’t about to tell him where he heard about the website. Nor was he going to say what was in the package… yet. He hoped Osamu just thought it was from a cooking website or something with how much they both loved food. 

Osamu seemed suspicious with Keiji’s sudden change in attitude — being somewhat cagey and whisking the box away to their bedroom, tipping him off. He wasn’t the type to pry too much though. He liked surprises and would let Keiji show him when he was ready. He always did. However, he’d probably try to ask again before the night was over though — Keiji knew him well enough after so many years of marriage. 

Keiji’s heart pulsed dramatically as he held the package in his hands on the other side of the bedroom door. 

“Dinner’s almost ready!” He heard Osamu call to him. 

“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute,” he yelled back. 

He ripped open the package to hold the flimsy satin maid’s smock in front of him. The cheap white fabric looked up at him, almost mocking. His face heated as he held it up. God, he was going to look like a trollop in this. Alright — he had to muster up some courage to pull this off. It was much shorter than he expected. It would barely cover his dick. The frilling edges of the sleeves were a little unexpected, not quite like the picture. It’s fine though — he knew once he was in this, he would exude confidence. He would give it his all. That’s just who he was, what he was instilled with. 

As he inspected the outfit, running his finger over the little black ribbon in the front, two wrist cuffs fell out of the packaging under his arm. They were black with white frills to match the sleeves of the smock. The whole aesthetic made him wonder where the old feather duster had gone. That’d be a good addition to this…

As his mind wandered and he thought of other accessories he could add to his maid costume and how he would roll it out, he heard a knock at the door. He jumped, heart pounding again. 

“Babe, dinner’s ready. Are you ok in there?” 

“Y-Yep! Coming!” He was so far gone in his thoughts about the outfit that Osamu startled him. His voice sounded strained despite trying to keep it under control. 

He dashed across the room and jammed the skimpy pieces of fabric into the bottom of his nightstand drawers, where he knew Osamu wouldn’t go searching for it. There were certain places that they gave each other privacy — primarily each other’s offices and their bedside drawers. The rest of the house was fair game. It made hiding Christmas presents somewhat of a challenge since their home offices were small, but they made do. 

He ran out of the bedroom — heart racing, flushed — like he had just been caught doing something naughty. Well, he kind of had? Almost, at least. Not that it would be a problem. It’d probably just mean dinner would get cold because Osamu would jump him, like he was prone to do. But he wanted this to be a surprise. He wanted this to be for when Osamu was cooking again, naked. He wanted to distract him like he has been distracted so many times. He was playing the long game. 

He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. 

“Ya doin’ okay over there?” Osamu smirked having noticed something was _off_ about Keiji. 

“Mhm. Peachy. What’s for dinner?” Keiji sat down at the table, his emotions now under control, back to his straight-faced, unreadable facade he kept. 

Osamu brought two bowls over, placing one in front of Keiji. “Sukiyaki.” 

The multiple varieties of mushrooms swirled around the noodles. It was one of their comfort foods for cold, rainy days, such as today. “Itadakimasu,” Keiji said, thanking him for the meal. 

The broth was both sweet and savory and the Kansai version of the dish that Osamu made — with the meat seared in sugar, soy sauce, and sake before being added — always beat out the Kanto version that Keiji grew up having where all the ingredients were cooked at the same time. The flavors were fuller and every bite left him wanting more and wondering how Osamu could create such a masterpiece. It didn’t hurt that Osamu never skimped on the quality of the meat either. 

Now that Keiji was all buttered up, full from their meal, Osamu took the opportunity to ask about the package again. “So what was that all about?” He gestured to the bedroom with his chopsticks, soup spoon in his other hand. 

“Oh,” a light bush crept up Keiji’s face. “You’ll find out in no time.” 

“Ah, I see. OK.” Osamu smiled then slurped up some noodles. 

Patience was a virtue. Keiji wasn’t the patient one in the relationship so he couldn’t relate when Osamu told him this often. But when he was denied the answer to his question like this, he took it graciously and knew answers would come in good time. He couldn’t push. He knew he'd be rewarded with something special if Keiji could keep the secret. It had to be good. 

And in good time, answers came. And they were good indeed. The following weekend Osamu was back in the kitchen cooking. Naked. Save for his apron. This time, the apron draped only over the front of his pelvis, protecting his most sacred parts from being seared with oil. The rest of him? Well, apparently, Osamu could handle it. 

Keiji peeked his head out and saw all conditions were met for his plan to be put in place. His heart thrummed. It was now or never. Well, not really. He had plenty of chances, but if he bailed now, would he ever have enough courage? His adrenaline surged. He wanted to play with his new toy as quickly as possible. It was that whole lack of patience thing too… So whatever lack of confidence he may have had was overridden by the desire to try something new, as well as the want, the need to see how Osamu would react. 

Osamu always had him in a tizzy on the weekends when he cooked naked. But not today. Today, he would have the upper hand. He pulled out the skimpy maid’s apron and dawned it, sans clothing underneath, just like Osamu. He slipped the cufflets over his wrists. They were a little big for his forearms, but that’s to be expected with such a cheap costume. He pulled them as close to his hands as possible to make them fit snuggly. Then he snatched up the feather duster he had dug up from the back of their closet later in the week — they had replaced it with one of the more newfangled ones and had never gotten around to throwing this one out — and looked in the mirror. 

Yeah, he looked like a trollop — no, wait... a slut. A hot slut who was going to fuck his husband. _Gosh, Keiji._ His stomach churned in anticipation. He loved it. He smiled and floofed up his hair, giving it a little shake before heading out the door, with both nervousness and excitement. 

Keiji stalled in the doorway, uncertain what to do, waiting for a reaction. Osamu continued to work in the kitchen without turning around. _Okay, let’s wait and see how long it takes for him to notice._

Keiji busied himself “dusting” the apartment — the living room was separated from the kitchen by a bar. It was very open concept, so it gave Keiji the perfect opportunity to traipse around in his outfit and show off his dusting skills. Or what looked like dusting. Really, he was skipping around mindlessly, paying no mind to what he ran the duster over. After around five minutes of this, he bent over “inspecting” the bookshelf for something _very interesting_ , his apron falling away from himself. He began “dusting” the shelf when he heard a clatter in the kitchen. 

When he looked over, Osamu was staring at him, mouth gaping, cooking utensils having apparently fallen out of his hands onto the floor with a clatter. A flirtatious smile danced across Keiji’s lips. This was exactly the reaction he wanted. He tried to contain his excitement. Play it cool. 

“K-Keiji, what...” Osamu’s voice trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. 

“Oh, I got a new outfit for cleaning. I think it really helps me move about a lot easier. Get more done. Do you like it?” Keiji bit his lower lip and twirled around. He pulled at the bottom of the apron as if to show it off some more — and partially because he didn’t know what to do with his hands and didn’t want them to nervously play with themselves — and slowly walked towards the bar. 

Osamu ran a hand through his hair and swallowed. “I-, uh, yeah. Yeah, I like it.” His eyes scanned Keiji up and down as he walked over. 

“I can see that. Seems to be a little distracting, huh?” Keiji ran a finger down his exposed collar bone as he tipped his head forward. 

“Maybe a little. Why do you say that?” Osamu was smiling and leaning against the sink that was attached to the bar Keiji came up to. 

“You dropped your utensils. Oh, and the food’s burning,” Keiji chuckled and pointed past Osamu to the stove. 

“ _Shit_.” The chef turned around to fix the disaster that their breakfast was turning while Keiji slid into a stool at the bar, setting down his feather duster. 

Worth it. 

After Osamu salvaged what he could and plated it, he set it on the table, but hesitated, turning to Keiji who was still sitting at the bar, peeking over his shoulder, taking in his naked husband. “Ya know, this prolly isn’t gonna be any good. Maybe we can go out for lunch in a bit, if ya can wait?” 

“Sure. But why am I waiting?” Keiji’s eyes narrowed, pursing his lips. 

“There’s somethin’ I wanted to do to ya first.” Osamu’s eyes looked dark now, hungry, and it wasn’t for food. Keiji stopped breathing.

“And what was that?” Keiji finally breathed, standing up. 

Osamu approached him, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. He leaned in and whispered, “I wanted to thank ya for keepin’ the house so clean.” 

Keiji shivered, the warmth from Osamu’s breath ghosting over his ear nearly short-circuited his brain, but he wasn’t so far gone — it was he who was supposed to be distracting _him_! Keiji had to stay on his game. In his best, sultry voice, he purred, “Well, it is _so_ _hard_ to keep this place clean when you go making it _so_ _dirty_.” He trailed his finger down Osamu’s chest. 

Something’s gotta keep this marriage spicy, right? 

Osamu chuckled, “Yeah, I know. How ‘bout I make it up to ya?” His body so close now, pressing up against Keiji, who could feel Osamu getting hard. It was making it hard to control himself. He wanted to hold out for as long as possible, show how in control he was, but he wasn’t. His body betrayed him. 

Osamu’s hot breath was now on his neck, and Keiji’s dick liked that a lot. Combined with the way Osamu was now kissing, licking, nipping at his neck — one of his particularly sensitive spots, Keiji couldn’t help but drop his head back and indulge. His lips parted and a soft, wanton moan escaped. Osamu enjoyed that, he hummed in response against his husband’s neck, while his hands gripped Keiji’s ass kneading as he would one of his loaves of bread. And boy, did it make him rise. 

He wrapped his arms around Osamu’s shoulders, as the attention to his ass and neck was making his knees weak. Something about his neck in particular always did it for him — Osamu could just come up behind him while he was editing, stroke his neck, hold it from behind, rub the tip of his nose along its inner curve, literally just breath on it, and Keiji would be turned on. Osamu knew this and exploited it to no end. 

He liked to switch between giving Keiji’s neck his undivided attention and capturing Keiji’s lips between his teeth, while still languidly rubbing shapes with his thumb all over his love’s throat. Keiji couldn’t help himself as he let little murmurs; moans escaped as they kissed. 

Keiji was harder than ever now and had no regrets regardless of who was in control. Somehow, he had come into this with a plan — be as sexually distracting as possible, which he guessed had been fulfilled, but at some point, things had changed… 

Osamu was really a spectacular husband, huh. 

Keiji groaned as heat pooled in his abdomen, which he ground against Osamu. He could relish this slow foreplay all day. He probably could eventually come from it if they were at it long enough. Sounds like torture. Blissful torture. A thought for another day. He ground harder into Osamu. 

Osamu pulled back, looking up at Keiji. “Ya like that?” He pressed a chaste kiss into Keiji’s lips. 

“You know I do.” Breathless. Keiji was breathless already.

“Then wait here. I’ll be right back.” Osamu quickly turned and disappeared into the bedroom. Before Keiji could touch himself for too long, his husband was back. “Bend over.” 

Keiji wanted to resent his command, but the forcefulness of it, the assuredness, the authoritativeness was… so hot. Yeah, who needed control when you had Osamu in your life? Keiji wanted to give him everything, so he followed directions — he turned around leaning on his elbows on the bar. 

Surprisingly, for someone as high strung as Keiji (it’s almost a prerequisite to be high strung in the publishing industry), he was okay with that. With following directions. With losing control. With submitting. Because right now, he was weak in the knees, and control just _needed_ to be taken away from him… Sometimes, even when he really wanted to keep it, it was for the best. It ended with him in situations like this. How could he deny that this wasn’t an amazing outcome? 

He heard a clicking noise and a squirt. It was a couple of seconds before he could _feel_ what had happened. _Oh._ Keiji stifled a moan. Osamu had squirted lube onto his fingers, warmed it up, and then proceeded to work them into Keiji, slowly opening him up. Keiji bit his lip, holding in as many noises as he could. 

“I wanna hear ya, baby. I like it when I make ya moan.” Osamu leaned over Keiji now plastered flat to the counter, ghosting his breath over Keiji’s ear making him shudder. 

Keiji’s unhindered moans started out low and slow, matching Osamu’s movements inside him. Whenever Osamu said he wanted to hear them, that always incited something inside Keiji. Gave him a little tone. A little edge. A little volume. Confidence. 

Then another finger was added — Osamu hit that special spot, grazing Keiji’s prostate, and a groan erupted like a geyser of hot steam, of silent curse words tumbling out of the writer’s perfect lips. Osamu smiled with self-satisfaction. 

“Oh, right there, huh?” Osamu increased his ministrations, adding another finger. “I want ya to scream for me, baby,” he panted as he worked, in and out. 

Keiji was sweating now, flat against the counter, knuckles white as he gripped the side and edge of the sink in front of him. Then Osamu hit that spot again and again and again — Keiji screamed. “FUCK!” He couldn’t think. His mind was heavy, swirling, white. Every time he was hit _there_ , he lost it. 

“Yeah, just like that.” Keiji could hear the smirk in Osamu’s voice. “I like it when ya curse, Ji-baby. Ya never talk like that. It’s fuckin’ sexy.” God, his voice was so low. 

Keiji whimpered, then choked out, “Os— Sa— Mu—“ in time with being finger fucked. He whined. He was about to— But he wanted— Needed— 

“What is it? Tell me what you want.” They made eye contact as Keiji looked up from his face pressing against the counter. His eyes pleaded, pupils blown wide. He bit his lip. Osamu wasn’t having it — he wanted to play this game. “Yer a writer, ain’tcha? Ya need to use yer words.” He used that annoying Miya smile. Keiji groaned in frustration. 

Words eluded him. He couldn’t make his message any more clear. Sure, he had come from Osamu’s hands before, but what he really wanted was his cock, his perfect cock that just felt so much better than fingers ever could. And yet— eloquence like that which he put on paper every day escaped him every time Osamu’s fingers disappeared inside him. 

“Ah— cock. Inside. _Now_.” He moaned again. What he got out was the best he could do. Osamu chuckled low under his breath and then a pleased sigh. 

“Alright, Ji. I did say I wanted to thank ya. So if that’s what ya want…” He pulled his fingers out, leaving Keiji feeling momentarily empty, sweaty and slumped, against the counter trying to catch his breath. His heart raced. 

Only a moment later, Keiji felt Osamu’s hand on his back. 

“Ya ready?” 

That hand drew reassuring circles into the small of Keiji’s back. When Keiji nodded and hummed in affirmation — with all the energy he could muster to indicate that _yes, he indeed wanted to be dicked down as soon as possible_ — he felt the rest of him being slowly filled up. He held his breath as Osamu bottomed out. 

“Ya good?” 

With his eyes shut, Keiji nodded his head. “Move,” he hissed. 

One hand clutched back at the sink and the other lay flat on the counter to stabilize himself. As Osamu pulled out and crashed back in, knocking out all the air from Keiji, he slipped the one not on Keiji’s back into his husband’s free hand on the counter, intertwining their fingers. Leaning forward, he peppered Keiji’s shoulders with light kisses as he thrust. 

Keiji clutched at Osamu’s fingers harder. When he did incredibly cute things like that it made Keiji’s heart do a little flip in his chest, even if it was already doing some kind of crazy aerobics to keep up with their sex routine. After all these years together, Osamu still made his heart soar both in and out of the bedroom — or wherever they chose to have sex. Keiji bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Had he married the perfect man? 

Then Osamu bit down on his shoulder hard and started to suck while continuing to thrust. 

“SHIT!” Maybe not. 

Osamu chuckled into his shoulder, still attached to Keiji’s back. That would leave a mark. 

“I’m. Not. Food!” Keiji huffed in between each of Osamu’s plunges inside of him. 

“Keiji-babe, ya taste so good though. I could just eat ya up,” he panted, and then licked at the spot he had bitten and peppered it with more kisses. Keiji could feel his smile in those kisses though. What a dork. Always thinking about food. He then realized he did ruin breakfast, so he couldn’t really blame him… They were both going to be starving soon. 

Osamu kept babbling. For when they were normally both pretty quiet, relishing in each other’s comfortable silence, he wouldn’t shut up during sex. Keiji sometimes found it endearing when he whispered sweet nothings as they made love. Other times he found it hot as hell as Osamu endlessly rattled off about what fantasy he last masturbated to or how he planned to fuck Keiji or how big Keiji’s cock was. 

“I fuckin’ love yer apron. It’s way sexier than mine. Are ya my maid now? My dirty lil’ maid?” He wasn’t a wordsmith, but it turned Keiji on nonetheless. Yep, he was his maid. His _dirty_ . _Little_ . _Maid_. The words rang in his head. He loved it. A smile crept up Keiji’s lips as he felt the satin of the maid costume against his skin reinforcing his thoughts, those words, this feeling. 

Osamu slapped Keiji’s ass playfully, eliciting a little squeal, bringing Keiji out of his head. His husband rubbed where he had spanked and moved his hand up to grip the base of Keiji’s neck. 

As soon as Keiji felt it there, felt the pressure — almost as if he was being held down, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The tension within him built. He groaned, a guttural groan from deep within his chest. 

Osamu took that as a challenge. “Are ya close?” 

“So close.” 

Osamu picked up the pace, leaning over again close to Keiji’s ear, and whispered, “I want my dirty lil’ maid to scream for me.” He slightly tightened his grip, tipping Keiji over the edge. 

Keiji saw white. He wasn’t sure exactly what he screamed, just that it was strangled sounding and left him out of breath. His body seized as he came, toes curling, hands gripping tight, tears pricking his eyes. Osamu rode him through his high as he too came when he heard Keiji yell.

Osamu folded himself on top of Keiji and they both just laid on the counter catching their breath in a sweaty mass. He leaned into Keiji’s shoulder pecking him with a singular kiss. “Be right back, babe.” He disappeared into the bathroom where Keiji heard the water turn on. 

With zero strength to move, Keiji let air flow in and out of his lungs. He laid in his blissful state of post-coital high, listening to the hum of the kitchen electronics. 

“How ya feelin’?” His husband was back and rubbing circles into his lower back again.

“Mmm,” Keiji murmured. He liked being touched like that. He liked everything about what just happened. “Good. Tired.” Osamu began to clean up his husband’s legs as come dripped down them with a warm rag he had gathered from the bathroom. Keiji shuddered despite its temperature. 

Crouched down, that’s when Osamu saw it — Keiji’s come splattered against the floor and wall under the bar. “I thought the maid was the one who was supposed to keep the house clean, not make it dirtier.” 

“Hmm?” Keiji tipped his head up, and was met with a finger that pointed at the ground. When he looked, he rolled his eyes, and sighed, “I’ll clean it up. Gimme a minute.” 

He heard a chuckle behind him. “That’s okay. I did say yer my _dirty_ lil’ maid, didn’t I?” He teased. Just hearing those words again made Keiji’s stomach warm. “Let me carry you to bed.” 

Osamu had finished cleaning him, giving him a little tap on his butt and leaving the rag on the counter. This place was going to have to be bleached if they were going to have the in-laws over and not feel guilty about it. 

“It’s fine. I need to get up. And who’s going to clean this? I’m the maid, aren’t I?” Keiji crawled back around, facing his husband while he crossed his arms. 

“I’ll do it. And I’ll fix us somethin’ quick too. I’ll bring it to ya.” Osamu leaned in, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek, then on his lips, and then a cascade down his neck. 

“Mmm. If you insist.” Keiji was hard-pressed to argue. It’s not like he could move around easily either after their rendezvous in the living room and his persuasive kisses sealed the deal. 

Osamu whisked his husband away to the bedroom, laying him on their bed, covering him with a blanket, and handing him the remote to their TV. “I’ll be back soon.” He kissed the top of his husband’s forehead before looking him in the eye to say, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

As he left, instead of picking up the remote, Keiji was too distracted watching Osamu's ass, framed by his apron, nearly falling off. 

Damn. It really did drive Keiji mad.

**Author's Note:**

> I write this as a married woman who has to keep her marriage spicy. Do I also own my own maid costume? No comment.  
>    
> Also, this may just be Osamu thirst.  
>    
> Follow me on Twitter [@elleskandal](http://www.twitter.com/elleskandal)
> 
> Check out the next fic in the series or my other Osaaka longfic [‘open the door, to another door’](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447269/chapters/64438315).  
> 


End file.
